


Struck Down

by DaydreamNightmare



Series: by the book [1]
Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Pre-Relationship, Probably ooc, completely inaccurate descriptions of hospitals and hospital procedure, they're not in a relationship but boy oh boy should they be, unnecessarily dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamNightmare/pseuds/DaydreamNightmare
Summary: Tim can say they're not partners until he's blue in the face as far as she's concerned; in the past nine months she's spent more time with him than alone, or in the company of people she'd actually qualify as her friends. She knows where he lives, she knows his lunch order, she knows when he's had too little water to drink and is cranky because of an oncoming headache. She knows that despite his snappish attitude on the ride over, this time it's bad – by the time they made it to the hospital, he was babbling nonsense and his eyes were rolling back in his head.
Relationships: Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Series: by the book [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595908
Comments: 21
Kudos: 152





	Struck Down

**Author's Note:**

> There is a criminal lack of Chenford fics, y'all. Until we get at least ten pages of fics to choose from, here's my small contribution, which may or may not be absolutely awful.

The waiting room seems oppressively small, the plastic chairs foreboding, and the smell of antiseptic is harsh to breathe in. It's not the first time she's sitting here waiting to hear news about her TO, but it doesn't get easier. 

Tim can say they're not partners until he's blue in the face as far as she's concerned; in the past nine months she's spent more time with him than alone, or in the company of people she'd actually qualify as her friends. She knows where he lives, she knows his lunch order, she knows when he's had too little water to drink and is cranky because of an oncoming headache. She knows that despite his snappish attitude on the ride over, this time it's bad – by the time they made it to the hospital, he was babbling nonsense and his eyes were rolling back in his head. 

One in five GSW victims dies from it. She wonders what number this one is. It's through his left shoulder, too close for comfort, and she's not stupid; the doctors and nurses told her it'll be alright, but she wishes they'd be straightforward, even if she doesn't think she'll ever be prepared for the possibility of Tim dying. 

The unit is here – Jackson and John with Lopez and Harper are sat around her in various poses and moods, and Sargeant Grey has just arrived, full of platitudes and concealed worry. 

It's been four hours since they came here. Her stomach is growling and her head feels light now that the adrenaline has completely washed through her system. She's kept alert by pure anxiety. 

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees his pale face behind her lids, him murmuring her name as consciousness left him. 

“Sit down, Chen,” Harper appears before her and Lucy blinks wearily in confusion. “You're not gonna be of much help if you pass out as well.”

She listens, because she still automatically responds to authority, and she's not really willing to argue with Harper today, or any other day. 

The plastic seat feels like a million knives. John puts a hand on her shoulder and she leans into his touch, appreciating the friendly comfort. 

“He'll be fine,” John says quietly and she sighs while rubbing her eyes. 

“You don't know that.”

“I know Bradford,” he says easily. “He's too stubborn to die.”

Lucy laughs wetly, blinking rapidly so that she doesn't embarrass herself. It's all too much now – the hospital, the smell, the unit surrounding her and eyeing her warily, John's unrelenting optimism even now. She's tired and afraid. 

“He's not dying before he turns you into a real police officer, Boot,” Lopez says from the side without looking at her. “Keep crying; it would disappoint him so much he'd probably come back from the dead if he did die. You're his best shot now.”

Lucy laughs for real this time, and sees a small smile on Lopez's face as well. The hours tick by.

-.-

It's daybreak and her eyes feel like they're bleeding when a doctor comes out towards them. She's on her feet first and behind her is a groggy Grey. 

“Your partner is going to be alright,” she says, and Lucy covers her mouth with her hand, swallowing down a gasp of relief. “The bullet managed to miss anything vital, but there was some reconstruction that needed to be done,” the doctor pauses, glancing from Lucy to Grey. “He... He coded on the table; the bloodloss prior to arriving to the hospital was too great, but we managed to bring him back. His stats are stable...”

He coded on the table. 

Lucy can't feel her legs. 

“He'll be in the ICU for a couple more hours, just to be on the safe side, but the minute we transfer him to his own room, you can visit. He may not be awake,” the doctor trudges on. “I suggest you go home, have some sleep, or at least change your clothes,” she says and glances at Lucy's uniform which is muddied, bloodied and torn from the fight. “I can't let you in like that, I'm sorry.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Grey says and Lucy nods at the woman before they turn to repeat the message to the rest of them. Jackson tells her he'll take her home to change and bring her back. Grey tells her she can have a personal day if she so chooses and she nods mutely. Lopez hugs her before she leaves and tells her “Told you he'd come back from the dead just to scold you for being human.” It's not as funny now, when even Lopez's voice sounds frail.

The second Jackson starts the engine, she starts crying hysterically. 

-.-

At home, she manages to get two miserable hours of sleep before she showers, scrubbing down blood and dirt from her hands. She soaks her uniform in cold water and hydrogen peroxide before tossing it into the wash and makes lunch for Jackson, who still has to make shift at noon. She sits to eat with him, but she ends up pushing her food around.

“You manage to sleep?” Jackson asks with a massive yawn and she shrugs.

“Kinda just rolled around half-unconscious,” she says tiredly. “I'll sleep when I get back later.”

“He'll be fine,” Jackson says and her hands shake. 

“You know how quickly these things can go wrong,” she says. “Besides, it's on the left side, too close to the heart, if anything goes wrong-”

“Luce,” Jackson takes her hand in his. “Tim's gonna be okay. He's a stubborn bastard, if nothing-”

“Everyone keeps saying that like it's a defining characteristic,” she says, somewhat crossly. “God forbid something does happen, the eulogies would be more depressing than-” she can't even finish her sentence before she's choked up again. “God. This is so stupid. It's not even his worst hospital trip to date.”

“You're closer now, it means more,” Jackson says. “I don't know what I'd do if Lopez got shot. I think I'd feel like a kid left behind in a store.”

Lucy nods, but he's wrong. It's a raw, deep fear that claws at her insides, makes it hard to breathe. Time passes slowly, and all she can think of is blood pouring from his shoulder and his face growing paler.

Staring at her eggs and bacon, she realizes that she doesn't need this kind of introspection now. 

-.-

She returns to the hospital two hours later, only to be told that Officer Bradford is still in the ICU, but should be getting transferred in about an hour, so she sits vigil until she sees them rolling his bed across the hallway. 

She gives them an additional fifteen minutes to set him up and until they leave the room before she tells the check-in nurse that she's going in and, if that's an issue, she's free to call the Department. The nurse yells after her as she walks inside the room.

Tim is asleep in the bed, chest rising and falling slowly, and his left side is bulkier under his gown than his right. There's faint scratches on his face, where he fell on the ground and smacked his head. She wonders if they assessed him for concussion, and thinks they probably did, because they're doctors, and they should, theoretically, know their jobs. He's hooked to an IV and a heart monitor that's beeping out a strong, steady rhythm. 

She wants to touch him, just reach out and touch his skin, just to make sure he's still warm and alive, but that might be too much, too unprofessional, too real. 

She satisfies herself with roaming her eyes across his prone form. She supposes he'll be sleeping after all that, and she settles into the visitor's chair with her phone in her hands. There's three texts there already, inquiring after Tim's condition, and she replies to them quickly.

She's browsing her notes app mindlessly until she hears stirring from the bed and looks up. In the flood of sterile white, Tim Bradford's blinking his eyes open in confusion and looking around blearily. 

“Hey,” she stands up and goes over to him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I've been shot,” he croaks out and she laughs but immediately bites her lip when it starts to wobble. “What day is it?” 

“Only Tuesday,” she says. “They fixed you up overnight and you're taking it great, so they moved you from the ICU.”

“Told you I'm the toughest one on the force,” he says and goes to pull himself up, soon enough discovering that's a horrible idea when he goes pale after he moves his shoulder wrong. 

“Dumbest as well,” she says as she reaches around his torso and gently maneuvers him into a more comfortable position. It still hurts him, she can see it in his clenched jaw and strained breathing, the light sheen of sweat on his face. “I can call a doctor, they can give you something for the pain-”

“No pain meds,” he groans out and the heart monitor picks up. “It's not that bad, I can handle it. Tell me what happened.”

“I can get a doctor-”

“Officer Chen,” he trains his eyes on her in his patented TO glare that she thinks he saves for her only. Her heart does a flip, and she's glad she's not the one hooked up to a monitor. “Are you disobeying a direct order from your TO?”

“No, Sir,” she says immediately, shoulders squaring up and back straightening. “The doctor who operated on you said that they patched you up nicely. Nothing vital hit, a lot of reconstruction. I see physical therapy in your future, but luckily it's your left arm, and you're right-handed and-” 

Her voice barely falters, but he notices and quirks an eyebrow. 

“Spit it out, Boot.”

“You, uh, coded on the table?” it comes out as a question, and her voice rises in pitch as her throat tightens. “But, uh, obviously you're okay.”

“If you start crying, I swear I will beat you with the IV baggie,” he says sternly, but his voice is off. She looks at the ceiling and blinks furiously. “I never coded before.”

“Oh?” 

“No,” he says. “Five times I've been shot, this is the only time I've coded.”

“One in five GSW victims dies,” she says automatically and feels mortified but he only nods absently. “Lopez said you probably came back because you knew I was crying and you just couldn't live or die with the knowledge that I was disappointing you in that way.”

At that he barks out a laughter, which turns into a painful cough. “She was probably right.”

“I'm getting the doctor,” she says when he grimaces again. “Not just for any possible pain meds, just, they probably need to know that you're awake,” she says hurriedly when he starts to protest. She needs to find a doctor, and she needs a moment to collect herself. 

She's allowed to be in the room as the doctor examines him. To her credit, she does offer to leave, but Tim insists, saying he needs to see how she behaves with victims, which she thinks is absolute bullshit. First of all, her conduct is amazing. The doctor rattles off mainly the same things she already said, including that rehab will be longer if he jumps back into normal action like he did with his last GSW. He has the decency to look embarrassed. 

By the time the doctor leaves, Lucy has reclaimed her spot in the visitor's chair and is breathing more easily. Tim has accepted a low dose of pain meds and looks to be in a marginally better mood. 

“Everyone's asking about you,” she tells him. “Lopez demands pictures.”

“If you take a picture of me, I'll have you doing 50 situps at every red light,” he threatens and she rolls her eyes. 

“You'll be on leave for ages,” she says and he raises an eyebrow. “There's no way you can enforce that.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Boot,” he says in a deadpan. “I know everything. I see everything.” 

She makes a face at him, but the atmosphere is lighter, and she feels so relieved she's light-headed. It's either that or everything that happened in the last 24 hours is finally getting to her. A fog descends over her eyes as Tim grills her on the details of yesterday, and she's answering him robotically. She closes her eyes trying to remember something for just a moment. 

When she opens them, it's to Lopez's loud laughter and Lucy blinks in confusion. The room is bathed by the setting sun and Lopez and Tim are staring at her in amusement. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Tim says and she fights not to blush. “Were the accomodations to your liking?” 

“Give her a break, Tim,” Lopez smacks him lightly on his good shoulder. “She didn't sleep a wink.”

“That's not an excuse,” both Lucy and Tim say at the same time and Lopez rolls her eyes. 

“You two are the same freaking person,” she says. “I gotta go, Wesley's waiting for me. Glad you made it, dumbass,” she squeezes Tim's upper arm. “You need a ride, Boot?”

“Yeah, if you don't mind,” Lucy says and Lopez nods and shakes her keys. “I'll uh, I'll be seeing you,” she tells Tim and he nods at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. 

She and Lopez walk to the car in relative silence, but it's not uncomfortable – by now, they know each other well enough. 

“Can I say something to you, Chen?” Lopez says as she's pulling out and Lucy rubs her eyes and nods. “Keep it in your pants.”

“What?” Lucy freezes mid-yawn and looks at Lopez, who is very obviously not looking at her. 

“Look, shit happens, we work a very intense job, the TO/trainee relationship is absolutely formative,” she says as she hits the turn signal. “You can't help emotions, but you can control them. And you need to control them. You don't wanna fuck your TO, even if your TO looks like Tim Bradford. Repeat this to him and I will make your life a living hell,” she gives her a winning smile. 

“I literally have no idea what you're talking about,” Lucy says carefully. “But I cannot emphasize enough how much nothing... Untoward is happening between my TO and me.”

“I hope for your sake you're telling the truth,” Lopez says. “I'm not judging you – too much – I'm just warning you. You don't wanna be branded like that, trust me.”

There's that word again, Lucy thinks. Branded. 

“You know from personal experience?” she asks instead, far too boldly, and it takes Lopez a moment before she decides to answer. 

“Yes,” she says simply, factually. “I got into a relationship with my TO in my sixth month. We thought we could keep it on the downlow, or at least I did, but that didn't happen. He dumped me when he got a new trainee. He was the man and I was the stupid rookie who gave it up for a pass on her tests. Took me years to be taken seriously.”

“I'm sorry,” Lucy says earnestly, knowing that it's both the dumbest and the only thing she can say. Lopez just shrugs. 

“Water under the bridge,” she says. “He got fired because of unprofessional conduct, and I'm kicking ass here.”

“That you are,” Lucy agrees. 

“Whatever's going on – or not going on,” she interrupts when Lucy opens her mouth. “- with you and Tim, might wanna keep it ultra professional until at least six months after you've been a real cop. Here you go, Boot.”

With surprise, Lucy realizes they're in front of her building. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she says and Lopez salutes her. 

The minute she lie on her bed, she falls into a dreamless sleep and doesn't wake up until her alarm rings for her shift the next morning.


End file.
